Luck Be Delanie: A Chances Are story

by Shelli Stevens

  “What I’d allegedly done. She lied,” he ground out. “Go on.”

  Opening her eyes again, she tried to gauge how he’d react to her next words.

  “I got pretty upset with what she told me, partly because I’d been drinking. She told me about this coin you loved, and how funny it would be if someone took it from you.”

  “Yeah. Real funny. She’d had her eye on the coin since I brought it to show-and-tell in second grade,” he said tersely. “And she convinced you to steal it?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “It was just another challenge for me. I was never one to back down from a dare, and I think she knew it. That’s why she picked me.”

  There was an audible click as his teeth snapped together. He released her arm and fisted his hands.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It never occurred to you she might have been lying?”

  “She was my sorority sister. I gave her the benefit of the doubt.”

  His jaw tightened. “And yet you couldn’t even remember her name.”

  “I made a bad decision that night, Grant.” Guilt brought another heated flush to her face. “I’m not going to deny it.”

  “It’d be kind of hard to,” he replied with a bitter laugh. “And then you rolled out of bed with me and sold the coin for a couple grand.”

  Nausea rolled through her as she stared at the myriad of emotions flashing across his face. Anger, frustration, disgust. Not even a hint of the tenderness or caring he’d shown her last night.

  “Grant,” she drew in a deep breath, ready to tell him the truth about the coin. “I didn’t se—”

  The whine of a motor cut off her words, and they both turned toward the water to see a Coast Guard boat approaching the island.

  “Looks like we’ve been found,” he said wearily. “I’ll go grab the rest of the stuff back at the cabin.”

  She started after him. “Wait, Grant—”

  He lifted his hand and shook his head. “Later. Let’s just get back to the resort first.”

  Disappointment stabbed deep. The need to tell him she’d kept the coin had been so profound.

  Maybe it would be better just to hand it to him anyway. With a heavy sigh, she turned back to wave down the boat.

  After the Coast Guard dropped them off on Lopez Island, Grant drove them back to the resort.

  “We were lucky Roberta called the Coast Guard,” Lanie murmured, looking over at him.

  He grunted in response, not trusting himself to speak, with his emotions all over the map.

  He’d known all along she’d taken the coin—had even come to a point where he’d forgiven her. Then she’d told him the reason why she’d taken it, and he’d lost it. All the goddamn warm and fuzzies had flown out the window. Her motivation had been so absurd and selfish.

  Six years ago. It’s in the past. The voice of reason argued in his head. After that amazing night they’d had, could he really justify throwing it all away? He drew in a long breath, already knowing the answer.

  Turning down the road to the resort, his eyebrows shot up at the three media vans outside.

  “What the hell?” he scowled and parked the Jeep.

  He glanced over at Lanie, who’d gone quiet, and saw the look of trepidation on her face. She didn’t seem the least bit surprised by their presence.

  He barely had time to ponder the thought before all hell broke loose. A wall of noise hit them as reporters burst through the doors of the resort, shoving microphones and cameras in their faces.

  Grant climbed out of the car, trying to squeeze past the crowd to open Lanie’s door. He arrived at the other side of the Jeep to find someone else had done it for him.

  At first he figured the older man to be her father. Tall, graying hair and distinguished-looking. But then, right after he pulled her from the vehicle, he dropped a very un-fatherly kiss on her mouth.

  Grant pressed his hand against the Jeep, his jaw clenching as his stomach threatened to toss up the apple he’d eaten on the boat ride back.

  The reporters clapped and gave cheers of approval, barely waiting for the couple to pull apart, before thrusting a microphone in the man’s face.

  “Senator Adams, how does it feel knowing your fiancée is safe?”

  Senator? He was a fucking senator? And had they just said fiancée?

  “Wonderful.” He slipped his arm around Lanie’s waist. “The moment I learned Delanie had gone missing, I cancelled all re-election appearances to come help in the search. Which I’m sure the voters of California will understand.”

  “Ms. Williams, do you plan on suing the resort for putting your life at risk with such a dangerous boat?”

  Grant’s teeth snapped together. That was it. He would not stick around and listen to this bullshit for one second longer. He spun on his heel, pushing past the crowd to stride back inside the resort.

  Roberta stood inside the doorway, her eyes filled with tears.

  “We were so worried. When you didn’t come back or answer your cell phones, and then we found Delanie’s hat floating in the strait, we assumed the worst. I—”

  “Don’t let any of those reporters back into the main building. And tell Ms. Williams to sign the sponsorship papers and then I’ll have copies overnighted to her in a few days.”

  “But, what about—”

  “I don’t want to see her again.” He spun around, the pain of knowing she’d lied again shredding him apart inside. “I’m going away for a couple of days. And I want her gone before I return.”

  Roberta didn’t even ask to whom he referred. Compassion and understanding flickered in her gaze. She gave a quick nod and bit her lip.

  “I’m so sorry, Grant.”

  Her soft words further twisted the knot in his gut. He went to the kitchen window and looked outside, just in time to see Lanie leading the senator into one of the cabins. She yelled something at the bodyguard who tried to follow them. The man scowled, but with obvious reluctance, let them go inside alone.

  Grant closed his eyes, not even wanting to consider what they were doing in there. Pain and rage mixed a potent combination in his blood. He clenched his fists and struggled to breathe. He needed to get the hell away from there. Before he did something stupid—like beat the shit out of a senator.

  “Hold down the fort for a bit, Roberta, and I’ll give you an extra week’s vacation time.” He forced a smile. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

  The blood pounded in Lanie’s veins. She pried Franklin’s arm from around her waist and stood on her tiptoes, trying to see where Grant had run off to.

  Oh God, he must surely be thinking the worst right now. And after their conversation on the island… Jeez.

  “Excuse me,” she raised her voice above the flurry of questions being hurled at them. “I need a moment with the senator.”

  Not waiting for a response, she grabbed his arm and dragged him away. Somewhere they could talk—or where she could rip him a new one to be exact—and not be photographed and recorded.

  Spotting the cabin Grant had taken her into yesterday, she tugged him into it. His bodyguard made to follow them in and she glared at him.

  “Don’t even try it. I need a moment alone.”

  Franklin sighed and then gave the guard a quick nod. “We’ll be fine.”

  The moment he stepped inside, she swung the door shut.

  “How dare you?” she snarled. “How dare you turn this into a P.R. event?”

  Franklin sighed and gave her a wary look. “Delanie, I apologize. Of course I was worried about you, and, as I mentioned, I was already in Seattle. But with the upcoming elections, it just seemed—”

  “And you told them I was your fiancée. What the heck were you thinking? We’re not engaged.”

  He waved his hand. “A technicality. I brought the ring with me and had hoped to discuss it with you.”

  “Discuss it with me?” her voice rose. “Discuss it with me? You are so…argh! I don’t have time for this. I don’t.
You can just march your ass back out there and tell those reporters the engagement is off. Or hell, try honesty for once and admit there never was one.”

  “Delanie—”

  “Either you do it, or I will.” She met his gaze and then swung open the door to the cabin, running back to the resort.

  The reporters seemed pre-occupied with something else now. Her stomach dropped as she realized what was happening. She broke into a run.

  “Grant!”

  But the Jeep peeled out of the driveway, past the reporters and away from the resort.

  “Oh God.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Miss Williams. There is speculation that this might be a campaign stunt, and that you were never on a boat that sank. Would you care to comment on that?”

  The reporters swarmed toward her again, hurling questions left and right.

  “No comment.” She shook her head, lifting her hand to cover her face and hurried back into the resort.

  Roberta ushered her in and shut the door behind her, locking it immediately.

  “Are you all right, dear?”

  She shook her head, struggling to swallow against the lump in her throat.

  “Where did he go?”

  Roberta sighed. “He left, said he’d be gone for a few days. He was terribly upset.”

  “Oh jeez,” she whispered. “What a mess.”

  “It certainly is.” Roberta clucked her tongue and sighed. Her face grew red. “I’m so sorry…but he left instructions for you to leave the resort immediately and that he’d overnight the paperwork to you.”

  Lanie flinched as if she’d been hit, her stomach rolling hard. “That final, huh?”

  “I’m afraid so. Perhaps you could stay at a nearby hotel and try to work things out when he returns?” she suggested hopefully.

  She shook her head, forcing a smile. Wondering if she might get sick. “I’ll go pack my things.”

  Roberta’s expression fell and she heaved a sigh. “All right. I’ll arrange transportation to the ferry. Unless you’re leaving with the senator.”

  “No. I won’t be leaving with the senator.”

  She glanced out the window and watched Franklin try to win over the reporters again. She didn’t believe for a second he’d tell them they weren’t engaged. Which was fine, she’d make an official statement when she returned to San Francisco.

  “Thank you, Roberta.” She turned back to the older woman and touched her shoulder. “For everything.”

  Seeing the disappointment in the other woman’s gaze was almost her undoing. Before she started crying like an idiot, she turned and went to her room to pack.

  Chapter Eight

  Grant pulled the Jeep up to the resort and put it in park. He leaned back against the headrest and sighed, staring at the main house. He reached up and ran his hand over the three-day growth on his chin. Damn, he needed to shave. Either that or, at this rate, just grow it out into a beard.

  Regret rested heavy in his gut; despondency had hung thick over him the past few days. All because he knew she was gone.

  With a sigh, he climbed out of the car and walked up the steps to the front door. A couple a few feet away were dragging luggage out of a cabin, obviously checking out.

  It was second nature to give a friendly wave, and the couple responded with an enthusiastic wave of their own.

  He turned to open the front door and found it already open.

  Roberta stood in the doorway, flour on her apron and a relieved smile on her face. “You’re back.”

  “Of course.” He smiled and stepped through the door, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “You knew I’d be back.”

  His gaze drifted around the interior of the building.

  “She’s gone, Grant.”

  Tension coiled in his muscles and he gave a stiff nod. “I assumed as much.”

  Hell, he’d ordered her gone. Of course, there was that part of him that wanted her to ignore his request, to stubbornly stick around and explain to him that it had all been a mistake.

  “How have things been?” he asked.

  “Business as usual.” Roberta paused. “She left you a letter.”

  He turned abruptly to face her, his pulse quickening. “Did she now?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Maybe it’s a letter saying she wants to sue us.”

  Roberta clucked her tongue at him. “I somehow doubt that.”

  “Did you read it?”

  She waved a towel at him and scowled. “I’m nosey, Grant. But really, I have my limits.”

  “It’s sealed, huh?”

  She laughed softly. “Yes. And I just don’t trust that steaming it open trick.”

  “Thanks. I’ll go look it over in a few.”

  He turned down the hall to his room. The hell with a few, he wanted to rip it open now.

  Grabbing the handle to his door, he twisted it and pushed into the room.

  The letter lay on his bed like the day of reckoning put inside an envelope. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, eyeing the plain white rectangle with apprehension. Almost afraid to open it and see what she’d written inside.

  He finally reached over and picked it up. It was heavier than he expected, with a lump on one side.

  His brows came together as he drew his index finger beneath the seam and tugged open the seal. Turning the envelope upside down, he shook it until a necklace fell out into his palm.

  The blood pounded through his veins and his mouth fell open. Not just any necklace.

  He lifted the chain until the pendant swung in front of his face. The silver tetradrachm of Athens was held by tiny prongs that secured it into a pendant.

  He brushed his thumb over the raised owl, the hairs on the back of his neck lifting. Was he actually holding his coin? Or was it a replica?

  Reaching for the envelope, he tugged out the letter.

  Grant,

  I wish you hadn’t left so suddenly, without giving me the chance to explain. I know that in your eyes I’m probably just a liar and a thief, and in reality, I guess I am.

  I never intended to keep the coin. I promised Brittney I’d throw it into the lake, but I couldn’t do it. And neither did I sell it. The coin was the only reminder I had of the best night of my life. The night where I screwed up and gave both my body and my heart to the man I’d gone to steal from. I know there is no defense for my selfish actions. I don’t expect you to understand or forgive me, but I thought you deserved to know my motives.

  With the return of this coin, I hope your good luck returns and you find all the happiness you deserve in life.

  With love,

  Lanie

  Grant reread the letter for the third time, his head spinning and his mouth going dry.

  She hadn’t sold the coin, that realization alone was mind boggling enough. But the coin became the secondary focus. One line in her letter spun wildly inside his head. The night where I screwed up and gave both my body and my heart to the man I’d gone to steal from.

  Her heart. Was she saying…? Was it possible…? His chest tightened and he dropped the letter, picking up the coin again.

  How long had he wanted this back? Had he blamed all his bad luck on its disappearance?

  The pendant lay heavy in his hand, a tangible reminder of all he’d thought was important to him. And yet, even with the return of the coin, he’d been dealt the biggest stroke of bad luck yet.

  He’d just lost Lanie for the second time.

  “You need to stop freaking out,” Phoebe said, handing her a brownie on a paper plate. “I’m sure he’ll send the paperwork like he promised. It’s only been four days since you left.”

  “I know he will,” Delanie said softly. “I’m not worried about that.”

  “Oh yeah? Then what’s this about?” Phoebe lifted an eyebrow and tossed her black curls over her shoulder.

  Delanie scooted over on the couch in their office, making room for Phoebe to sit down.r />
  “I don’t know.” She tore off a piece of brownie and sighed. “I guess I just expected to hear something.”

  “Huh? Oh.” Phoebe’s eyebrows rose and she gave a slow nod. “Oh, I see. This is about that letter you left him, huh?”

  Delanie popped the bite of brownie in her mouth and nodded, not lifting her gaze. The rich chocolate treat melted against her tongue and she sighed.

  “This is excellent,” she said after swallowing the bite. “Who made it?”

  “Gabby baked them and brought them in.”

  “She’s fabulous. How are things with her and Justin?”

  “They’re ridiculously happy. You should have seen them this week when—” Her eyes narrowed. “Hey, you changed the subject. We were discussing Grant.”

  Delanie winced at his name, and the fact that Phoebe was so quick to go back to the subject of him.

  “Look, I thought you said you were glad to be off the island,” Phoebe pointed out, nibbling at the edge of her own brownie.

  “I was. I am,” she corrected herself. “It’s just—”

  “Well, thank God you’re out of the denial stage.” Phoebe nodded. “I mean, I could tell the minute you stepped off the plane.”

  “You could tell what?” Delanie touched her neck. Had he left some kind of giant-sized hickie or something?

  “That you’re completely in love with the man.”

  Delanie’s eyes widened, her mouth flapping as she tried to form a response.

  “It’s true, don’t even deny it.” Phoebe gave her a sidelong look while polishing off her brownie.

  “Deny what?”

  Gabby strode into the room, looking extra young with her strawberry-blonde braids peeking out from beneath a San Francisco Giant’s baseball cap.

  At twenty-four, she was already considered the baby employee at the Second Chances office. But, despite her young age, she worked her butt off and there wasn’t a thing she wouldn’t do for the shelter.

  “Nothing. I’m denying nothing,” Delanie muttered. “These are fabulous by the way.” She lifted the small bit of brownie she had left and then popped it into her mouth.

  “Glad you like them.” She turned to Phoebe. “So what’s she denying?”